Welcome Back, Seb
by Mourshkin
Summary: When you're alone, jobless and disgraced, a reunion with your childhood best friend should be a good thing...right? Maybe not when that long-lost friend is a psychotic criminal mastermind who is determined to make you a pawn in a game where only he knows the rules. MorMor, maybe some kidlock later on. T for language, and probably other stuff too.
1. Chapter 1

"Basher! Basher! Basher!"

Sebastian paused dramatically, eyeing the flaming shot in his hand, grinning madly. The chanting got faster, wilder, louder as he brought the glass to his lips and dissolved into cheering and stamping and table-thumping as he threw his head back and downed the fiery drink in one.

Seb smashed the glass down, revelling in the adrenaline that washed over him. This was what he lived for - thrills, danger - it was an addiction. And he would do just about anything to feed his habit.

"Nice one, colonel, sir!" A man across the table slurred, managing a sloppy salute.

The effect was instant. Silence fell across the raucous group of soldiers like a wet blanket. The rest of of the bar followed suit as Sebastian Moran stood up, towering over the table as ominously as a thunder cloud. He grinned widely, but no one relaxed. They all knew what that smile meant.

"I'm not your colonel anymore, _captain_." He spat the word out bitterly. "Or did you forget my dishonourable discharge? Did you forget what I did to that bastarding major? Maybe I should refresh your memory..."

The unfortunate captain, now painfully sober, seemed to shrink to nothing. The rest of the pub did the same; civilians unused to Moran's temper, terrified out of their wits.

Seb's mouth trembled. The heavy scowl slipped into a lopsided grin. And then a laugh. His shoulders shook and he grabbed is sides.

"Your faces! Haha, you should see yourselves!"

The bemused captain could only gibber but the rest of the men around the table started to grin and chuckle. Good old Moran, he had a hell of a temper but he was always good for a laugh.

"Aw, come on cheer up, lad." He patted the put-upon man on the back but this only succeeded in sending him flying from his seat. This caused the other men around the table to laugh all the louder. The rest of the crowd visibly relaxed as Seb helped the man to his feet.

"I'll make it up to you, next round's on me!" A cheer went up from the table as he stalked across the room to the bar.

The bartender had his back turned when Seb reached the bar. He paused to enjoy the view before ordering. Petit, not usually his type, but there was something about the way the bartender's dark, skinny jeans and tshirt contrasted with his pale skin that made Sebastian's heart thrill, just a bit.

"6 beers, thanks, and a rum and coke."

The bartender turned and reached under the counter for glasses and a tray. Seb's eyes flickered for an instant to the pale face and then straight back to the man's body. Sebastian was the first to admit; he was a bit of a perv.

Before the man behind the bar could speak, Seb grabbed the tray of drinks and threw down some notes on the counter. He winked in a way he hoped was dashing and walked away nonchalantly.

"Keep the change." He called over his shoulder. The ex-colonel could knew he could afford it, it had been easy-pickings at the casino this week and who knew? Maybe a generous tip and he'd get lucky later...

"Thanks... Seb." The bartender's voice was soft, lilting. Although Sebastian was almost out of earshot, he whisked back around so fast the glasses wobbled. But the bartender was gone. How had he known his name? Had he just missheard? The tall man shook his head, put it out of his mind and returned to his ex-comrades.

oooooo

"Show me the way to go hooooomme, I'm tired an ah wanna go te beeeeddd, Ah had a li'l drin abou' an hour ago anitsgonerightomaheeeaaaaaaddd...oh!"

"Moran! Shut it! You can't sing when you're sober, so don't even try it when you're plastered."

The two soldiers who were supporting Seb laughed drunkenly and then yelped as the big man stumbled sideways, almost toppling all three of them. They reached the street where they _thought _Sebastian lived and propped him against a wall. They hadn't a clue which house was his, both men realised just how little they new about their ex-commander.

"You gonna be OK, sir? Um, I mean...uh sorry I forgot again." The unfortunate captain shrunk back, but Sebastian was in no fit state to pick a fight.

"Ahh piss of will ya? I'm fiinne." Seb took an illcalculated swing and almost overbalanced again.

The two soldiers looked at each other and shrugged, neither of them were stupid enough to ignore a direct order from Moran, no matter how drunk he was. They walked off together along the deserted street, leaving Seb alone in the orange glow of the streetlights.

oooooo

"Hey, hey you! Blondie! Watch your step will ya'?"

Where had the two men come from? Seb stared about him dizzily, he hadn't been this drunk since well, since he was a teenager. Generally, he could hold is alcohol but he had a creeping suspicion that his drink had been spiked. He tried to carry on walking but was shoved back roughly.

"I said 'watch your step', there something wrong with your ears, man?"

Seb could feel the cold wall, rough against his back. He was trapped. The two men advanced towards him, obviously looking for a fight. Usually he'd relish the chance, but tonight Seb could barely walk, let alone fight at his normal level. He had to get out of there.

"Leave me alone." He pushed unsteadliy passed them and headed for the other side of the road.

"Hey, we're not finished with you yet!"

"Yeh, get back here you cu-"

The black car had appeared from nowhere. It flashed silver in the streetlights and screeched to halt an inch from the two men who had followed Seb across the road. Their shock only served to double their violent mood. They kicked the wheels, banged the bonnet.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

"Get out here, so we can teach you some manners!"

One of the thugs reached for the driver's door handle, but before he'd touched it, the door was open and he was staring at a pale man's face. The face was calm, smiling. He stumbled back slightly, why the hell was this guy so calm? Why did _he_ suddenly feel like the prey?

The driver got out of the car, still smiling, and took a step towards the two men he'd almost run over. His manner was relaxed, his voice lilting and soft.

"Isn't it time you two went home?" His tone was so friendly, it was almost patronising. These men didn't usually take orders from anyone, this time they did. In fact,they stumbled over themselves to obey, to get the hell away from the smiling man with the dead eyes.

ooooooo

Seb had watched it all blearily from the pavement. He hadn't heard the voice, but even so he recognised his saviour. But it didn't make an once of sense; it was the bartender.

"You...ah saw you b'fore...wha's goin' on?"

The short man turned slowly, as if he'd forgotten about the man he'd just rescued. Then he smiled hungrily, walked to the other side of the car and opened the passenger door.

"Wha'? Ye think ah'm gonna jus' get in yer car..? Pfft yer mad!"

The man said nothing, only nodded as if Seb had gotten the correct answer to some unasked question. He left the door open, and walked around to sit back in the drivers seat.

"Get in the car, Sebastian."

The words were spoken robotically, as if the speaker were dreadfully bored. Something, Seb had no idea what, compelled him to obey. He found himself walking on unsteady feet and slumping into the passenger seat. The driver's face twitched in what could have been a smile.

"How..how d'you know ma name?"

"Oh Sebby, don't you recognise me?" The driver's voice fully of mock-hurt, a pantomime of emotion. They drove on in silence. Seb's eyes were starting to darken, the drug in his drink was finally taking its full effect. Before he knew it, he was asleep.

oooooo

"Ngggh...oh fuck."

The light was so bright. Oh god, why was everything so loud? Seb rolled onto his back and waited for everything to stop spinning.

After a while, he built up the courage to sit up. The light seemed to have returned to normal levels, though his eyes felt like they'd been rubbed with salt. Another few seconds and he was able to take in his surroundings.

He was lying under a sheet on a low palette bed, a few inches above rough, bare wooden floorboards in an unfamiliar room will peeling walls that reeked of piss and faded grandeur. There was nothing else in the room, save a tattered chiffon curtain over the picture window. And he was naked.

"Fuuuuuck."

Wrapping the bedsheet around his waist, he rose as silently as he could, trying to remember what had happened last night. He'd been drinking, that much was painfully apparent. There had been someone shouting at him, threatening him. But they'd gone away. Why? Seb racked his memory... there was something. Or rather someone. Someone had him saved from those thugs.

His thoughts were broken by the delicate strains of piano music. More confused by the second, Sebastian followed the sound down a decaying corridor to a heavy wooden door. He pushed it gingerly and it swung open with a dramatic groan. The piano stopped.

"Good moooorrnnning, Mister Moran!" The voice was sing-song and unnaturally cheery.

"Where are my clothes?" Seb demanded gruffly.

"What? Is that how you treat your saviour? Your long-lost friend?" He rose from the piano stool and sauntered towards the man framed in the doorway. He smiled indulgently and reached out a hand.

"What would you be needing clothes for anyway?" His voice was threatening and playful in equal measure. Seb flinched as the man's cold hands brushed his skin and took hold of his sheet. He couldn't move, something held him rooted - was this what terror felt like? The short man took another step, now his nose was almost touching Seb's collar bone. The dark haired man smiled as he passed a hand around Seb's back, the ex-colonel didn't react - he had no idea what was going on.

Suddenly, they were apart and Sebastian could feel the other man's eyes appraising his new outfit - he'd tied the sheet over Seb's shoulder like a toga.

"There, what did I say? Much better than _boring_ clothes, now you look just like my own greek god. What do you say, Sebby, do you like it?"

Seb flinched again at the nickname.

"Don't call me that, no one's called me that since I was - "

"-Fifteen?" The man cut in with a knowing smile. Seb's eyes widened.

"You?"

"Well, yes, it did you a while."

"You..you're..."

The man closed his eyes, as if in some private ecstasy.

"I am James Moriaty."


	2. Chapter 2

The worm twisted and squirmed, but the little boy only pinched it harder. His tongue protruded slightly as he pushed the rusted old hook through its middle. The worm continued to writhe and the boy smiled. He was just about to cast his line into the river when -

"What are you doing here?"

A little way along the riverbank a blonde boy shouldered his toy gun and fixed the little fisherman with a haughty stare.

"Fishing." The boy didn't look up, didn't react at all, didn't even move. Sebastian was thrown - shouldn't trespassers be scared, or intimidated or something? He marched forward until he stood over the other boy, but still there was no reaction, he just carried on staring into the swirling river.

"You can't fish here. It's not allowed. This is my land." Sebastian had discovered from an early age that he was good at giving orders, and he was used to them being followed.

"It's not."

"That's what I said, it's not allowed, so go away!" Why wasn't this skinny little twig doing what he said? He unshouldered his toy gun and tried to look threatening.

"No, stupid. I mean it's not your land." Finally the dark haired boy lifted his eyes from the river and glared a challenge at the boy above him. For a moment Seb was too confused to be insulted or angry, he just stood there clutching his little gun. The boy sitting on the bank took his chance.

"It's not your land, and even if your parents own it, that doesn't mean its yours. It's not a thing like your stupid toy gun, you can't own land."

"Says who?"

"My dad says-"

"Your dad sounds stupid to me."

"SHUT UP." The boy sprang to his feet, fists clenched. Sebastian stared in horror as dark red liquid started to drip from the boys left hand.

"You..you're bleeding! Stop, you're going to hurt yourself." Dropping his gun and any thoughts of trespassers, he rushed over and unfurled the strange little boy's fist. The point of the dirty fish hook was pressed into the palm. The worm was crushed to nothing.

"What do you think you're doing?" Seb extracted the point, thanking heaven the barb hadn't gone in and pulled the boy to the river's edge, plunging the damaged hand into the river. Keeping a firm grip on the boy's wrist, he then used the corner of his shirt as a towel. All the pale little boy had done was stare.

"How did you get here, this river's the estate border but you're on our side of it - there's no bridge. No one can get across." For the first time, the little boy became animated. His face just filled up with a mischievous grin, like a little goblin.

"I can! I only moved here three days ago but I found a way across." Eager to show off, he jumped up and started to head along the riverbank. Seb didn't move - the boy was really weird and he didn't like the idea of his parents finding him playing with a trespasser. He had just made up his mind to go home when the boy turned around and smiled. This time it was just a plain smile, now the boy looked almost normal.

"Follow me."

oooooo

Seb was still good at giving orders. So good he'd been promoted several times until he was youngest colonel in his regiment. He said jump and the men jumped. Respect, admiration, fear: it was probably a mixture of all three. But one thing was not in doubt, Sebastian Moran was an alpha male, a born leader. Or so he'd thought.

"You did exactly what I said, back then." Jim tipped his head and looked up at Sebastian like a lost puppy. Seb tighened his lips and tried not to think about the day they'd met and the way he'd been unable to resist following the strange little boy. He tried not to think about how he was only wearing a sheet, too.

"You see, this is what I think..." The short man pushed himself up onto the kitchen table, crossed his legs and smirked.

"Do you want to know what I think, Sebby?" The sheet clad man scowled, he wasn't about to play the gullible audience. He rolled his shoulders and cricked his neck.

"Actually, you know what Jim? I don't give a single fuck, so just give me my clothes and I'll be out of here." It should've been threatening. When a towering hulk of a guy tells you he doesn't give a single fuck, you're supposed to be a bit intimidated. Even if he is wearing a toga. It didn't work.

"Oh this is fun. You really are quite fun, Sebby you know that?" Jim giggled and clapped his hands and rocked back and forth on the tabletop. He looked batshit insane. Suddenly the rocking stopped, like the video had frozen. The man's face went slack and he looked not _at _Sebastian, but t_hrough_ him. It was like he was looking back 20 years and watching as two little boys ran along a riverbank near the south coast of Ireland.

"I think, Sebastian, that you like following orders." The sound of cars buzzed in the distance and neither man spoke. James swung his legs off the table and strolled to look out the window. He tapped a meaningless rhythm on the dirty glass, then stopped. Still gazing blankly, with his back to the room, he said softly-

"Or maybe you just like following mine."


End file.
